


fascination

by jazspers



Category: Tales of Symphonia: Dawn of the New World
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2013-11-29
Packaged: 2018-01-02 22:57:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazspers/pseuds/jazspers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>theres really nothing worse then when you team up with your enemy and he starts acting really cute</p>
            </blockquote>





	fascination

**Author's Note:**

> oh my god im not even done with this damn game but every time these dumb gay losers fight i cry and i wrote gay to sooth my soul
> 
> based off that one scene from the richter sidequest where they look for the bug kind of sort of

The soft sound of mulch squishing beneath heavy boots chimes back and forth through Emil's ears with every step. A small wind whistles by, stirring up the floral scent of nearby herbs curling their bodies around large tree frames. Lush green vines surround every corner, with pink and white flowers in a bright, full bloom. In the silent walk, Emil leisurely takes in every bit of the forest, skirting past unwitting monsters and sniffing every flower along the way. 

“You seem awfully relaxed.” Richter notes as Emil backs away from the puffy pink perennial cupped in his hand, giving a smile in response. 

“Is that bad? It's nice here.” With a large sigh, he scans the field, blinking away the sun in his eyes. 

Richter shrugs. “I guess not.” being all he can offer in response, and the walk continues peacefully. 

Emil hums along to the faint buzzing of cicadas in the background, the spring in his step giving off an almost unbearably optimistic feeling. Richter finds it hard to take his eyes off the boy's back as he walked freely and energetically, the usual tenseness in his muscles gone. From behind, all he can do is take in the sight, and if he paid attention he might notice the slight twitch in the corners of his mouth, or the softening of his gaze behind his glasses. Aqua takes notice though, her eyes flicking back and forth between her master's rare smile and the stupid skipping child in front of him, an understanding forming in her head that she refuses to accept. She looks to Tenebrae, who floats idly along beside her, unaware of Richter's strange behavior. 

Emil finally comes to a stop on a small hill, turning around on his heel. When Aqua looks again, Richter's face is harsh as ever, and she wonders if she'd just imagined it all.

The two of them begin to dig around the large stalk of rosemary, their centurions floating along elsewhere, trapped in a heated feud about something virtually pointless. The rustle of the leaves and metal clank of shovels against ground fill the air, and Emil wipes a free arm against his forehead, basking in the sun's kiss on his exposed skin. He looks over to Richter, whose face is knit in concentration. There's an uncharacteristically casual sunhat on his head, probably to keep him shaded, but Emil can't help but feel refreshed at the sight of Richter in anything other than his usual suit. His long, red hair still blows effortlessly in the breeze, long strands thin and smooth as spider's silk rising and falling back into place, and it's hard not to want to reach out and allow his fingers to become entangled in the threads. 

“What?” Richter asks, and Emil realizes how close his hands have unconsciously come to Richter's back. He stammers, frozen, cheeks tinted red, the gears in his head spinning until they smoke as they search for words or reason.

“There was” Emil pipes up, his voice cracked. “There was a bug! In your hair! So I....” He trails off, blush deepening, his entire body curling into itself in embarrassment, but Richter just thanks him and continues digging. It takes a few minutes for Emil to recover, but soon he's back to digging again, until his hands are layered in a thin coat of dirt. He's not sure how much time has passed, but they've dug well into the area around the rosemary, so he puts his shovel down and leans back for a moment. The vines on a nearby tree give off a scent that's both relaxing and inviting, so he slips away from Richter for only a moment.

Richter's eyes flicker up as Emil wanders off, but he doesn't say a word. Emil's been more than helpful to him, so he doesn't particularly care if Emil helps him dig or not. He continues gazing down and then up, from dirt to Emil's small, delicate fingers pulling the small flower of a wild jasmine vine up to his nose, eyes fluttering closed and his lips slightly parted as he takes in the scent. He does this with other plants, Richter notices, his eyes stuck on Emil as he shuffles between plants, daintily taking all of them into his hands. He's precise, making sure to not even bend a petal, sliding two fingers below the base and leaning into the plant, almost as if he were placing sweet, chaste kisses against each one. His movements are quick and smooth as he glides around the field like a small pixie, or perhaps Richter just finds it magical to watch him. That thought slides itself into the back of his mind and is stabbed out through the shovel that Richter suddenly cuts violently into the ground. With his eyes wide, he stares at the dirt, hair shifting on his shoulders that he quickly brushes back, and he continues digging, focusing all his effort on that, pushing a little bit harder into the ground every time he notices his eyes beginning to drift.

At long last, he finds the carcase he'd been searching for, a wide but shallow hole spanning a small part of the field now. Richter blows it off in his fingers and lets out an excited exclaim, only to be met with a loud shush. He turns his head with a scowl and sees Emil, hunched over, gazing at something resting in his palms.

“Don't startle him!” Emil whispers loudly. He steps slowly towards Richter, cupped hands outstretched so he can see the vibrant purple wings resting in the small space between Emil's hands.

“He landed on my hand and he hasn't left since.” There's a bright smile on Emil's face and he giggles, looking back down to the tiny butterfly, and Richter pretends the racing of his heartbeat is due to the sudden stop in his physical activity, but it's impossible when he's face to face with Emil in his happiest state. 

Turning around quickly, he flashes the empty insect shell behind him and begins walking forward, beckoning Emil to come along, but Emil shouts back for him to wait.

Throwing his head over his shoulder, he watches Emil raise his hands to the sky, the small creature fading into the distance as Emil waves his arm and shouts a loud goodbye. The sudden attack hits Richter hard and he can't help the smile his lips curve into or the chuckle that escapes his throat. Emil jerks himself back, eyes wide and mouth agape and Richter breathes in sharply to stop himself. 

“You laughed again.” Emil states, shock and fascination dripping from his words. Richter quickly turns around to hide the blush on his cheeks.

“You just said goodbye to a butterfly. Of course it was amusing.”

He hears Emil stammer behind him and relaxes, at least secure in the fact that he isn't the only one embarrassed. Soft footsteps speed up and Emil is beside him now, his bright red cheeks facing the ground. It's silent until they exit the forest and Richter feels something lightly bump against his hand. When he looks down again he meets Emil's eyes and sees a hand tucked into his chest.

“S-Sorry!” He forces out and looks away again. Richter can see the forest exit getting closer with every step, the fact that Emil will become his enemy as soon as he walks through it growing heavier and heavier in his heart. With a deep breath he grabs Emil's hand, feeling his own fingers began to shake nervously. It was an action he regretted as soon as he moved, but he'd already done the damage. Emil muttered Richter's name dazedly, and Richter inhaled deeply again.

“Something like this is alright for now”

He adjusts Emil's hand in his own so that their palms are together and their fingers are intertwined. Emil's heart pounds in his chest and all he can feel is the grainy leather of Richter's glove against his skin. The blood pounding in his ears almost blocks out the end of Richter's sentence, but as it comes out Emil regrets listening. 

“Because this is the last time we'll be meeting like this.”


End file.
